I am David's oldest son. Below is a post I made on Facebook today and my mom asked me to share it here. I hope it helps you mourn.
This past Christmas brought perhaps the worst news I’ve had to receive, ever.
I was in my room…pacing back and forth, waiting for a call from my brother. My dad's condition had declined rapidly after a few failed attempts for an antibiotic to work. The FaceTime call rang, and I witnessed the oncologist walk into the room, and take what felt like an eternity to deliver the news. “Come on man, just say what we know already.” And then it came…the news we had all hoped wouldn’t echo into our existence…”Mr. Downing, your leukemia has come out of remission, and you don’t have much time left.” I never knew it was possible to have such a deep, dark, black abyss in my stomach, but my heart found it that day. My face fell flat into my pillow. I felt empty, void of energy…shock. My mind was filled with all the many things that I wanted to do with my dad, thoughts I had kept in my head waiting for the right time to fulfill. Unfortunately, these thoughts weren’t strong enough to fight back his diagnosis. AML (acute myeloid leukemia) had begun its grip on my dad's body.
I uttered internally, “No Father, I’m not prepared, please, give me more time with my dad.” I wanted to be in control. I looked at the clock hoping to see the second-hand stop moving…but I didn’t have time to wait for it to stop so we prepared to leave quickly, and made the trip to Alabama for Christmas break. Kristi read a book on how to treat cancer on the drive down which gave us a little hope…”Maybe we can extend his life…even if it’s just for a bit longer…one last family vacation maybe, please Lord.”
The family quickly started planning. Kristi made a strict nutritional plan and vitamin regimen for my dad to follow. He ended up executing it like a champ. My parents would live in my brother's house, making the trips to and from the hospital shorter - more manageable - and making life easier for my dad, giving him the help he would need on the hard days.
The doctor prescribed a temporary Med to get his white blood cell count down quickly because it was dangerously high. This was the first of three drugs he would take. His first response to the meds showed marketable improvement, and after a week had gone by he went from not being able to get out of the wheelchair without major assistance, to using a walker, being able to get around the house, and eating without assistance. Eventually, he would walk on his own strength. But as the treatments went on, it quickly became evident that a pattern had started to develop. During treatments, his condition would improve tremendously, but the effect of treatment took a few days to take full effect, and would only last for a few days before he would begin the slow decline back. One step forward, two to three steps back. Treatments were spread out over five days, one treatment a day, and then there would be a two-week waiting period to let his body recover from the toxicity of the treatments and allow his good cells to regenerate. Then came the tedious task of getting my dad to and from appointments. Lifting him in and out of the car, onto the toilet, into the shower for baths, getting him dressed, and fixing him food (my sister-in-law rocked it!).
I tried to finish a book I had been reading with him, The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel, but it was all I could do to manage reading to him and keeping him alert and interactive with the text. The treatments made him tired, and forgetful. “It’s okay, I’ll finish it with him next visit.” I had to go back to work after the break with the idea of coming back every few weeks.
My first trip back came quick, and my dad hit a new low spot upon my return. But he quickly rebounded when treatment began again and I caught myself thinking, “Man, how great would it be if he could make one more trip back to Omaha. Maybe he can see just one more birthday party at our house. Maybe we could share the burden and help give my brother and sister-in-law a tiny break from all the hard work they’ve been doing. I’m the older son, this is my duty.” I didn’t feel this way out of compulsion, I wanted a chance to serve my dad. “Lord, let me serve my dad in this way, please”.
I left to go back, with the plan to come back in a week and take him to Omaha, we quickly found a doctor in Omaha through the recommendation of a friend. “Wow Lord, an actual specialist in AML? That has good success stories? This is great.” But as the week came to a close, the doctor in Alabama wanted to start a more aggressive treatment the following week. It would require my dad to stay in Alabama so that his condition could be monitored for any adverse response as the new meds were ramping up. “It’s okay…I can be patient. Hopefully, the medicine will make him even better and stronger for the trip.”
The week steadily went by…
“Good. It’s my turn. Now I can provide a small relief to my brother and sister-in-law who have been working unbelievably hard. EVERY. DAY. We’ll see how this treatment goes. Lord, use these new doctors to get us a couple months closer to summer”
But…
life didn’t work out the way I wanted.
Everyone knows…
it often doesn’t.
The clock never stopped ticking…
and time seemed to go by only faster….
the moments with him being cognizant were fewer…
and the hopes of one last vacation would soon evaporate like a mist tossed by an ocean wave.
I had made plans to fly down on a Saturday to drive my parents back to Omaha on Sunday. My dad's lab numbers throughout that week had progressively gotten worse, and he was experiencing new levels of pain that elevated quickly, with no advanced warning, and were impossible to predict. My brother and sister and law and mom all had to watch this take place while I sat around helpless. “Lord, give me a chance to help….please.” He was supposed to get a blood transfusion and fluid the Saturday I was traveling to pick him up. My brother called me the day I was supposed to come, “He’s really weak and at times unresponsive.” My sister-in-law was anxious about this trip and rightfully concerned about his condition.
“No Lord, this can’t be…the new drugs are supposed to be working. Maybe the transfusion and fluids he’s supposed to get today will help him rebound.”
I was hopeful. So I boarded the airplane.
I walked in the garage door to my brother's house close to 11:00pm that night. The doorway opens into the living room area and has a perfect view of the couch where my dad would always sit. I could tell right away that things weren’t the way they were “supposed to be.” The blood and iv had not perked him up as I had hoped for, and all immediate expectations for the trip departed. His countenance was low, but as I placed my ear on his cheek while hugging him, he was still able to mumble under a very weak exhale…” I love ya, Matty”.
Kristi had to be called. “Hey babe, I think it would be best for you to get the kids here just in case things don’t go as hoped.” She would come to Alabama and if he improved in a few days we would all head back. She packed for a few hours, sent out an SOS to a good friend to solicit help with the drive on Sunday, and slept for a few hours before leaving mid-morning to accomplish the treacherous 13.5-hour drive with our five kiddos.
Meanwhile, the debate went on in the house, hospice or no hospice. Hospice meant treatments would stop, no meds allowed, and no further consultation from the doctors unless substantial improvement had been made.
But it also meant control of the pain, no night terrors, and no suffering.
“No, Lord. He’ll die if we put him in hospice. Help me get him to this new doctor to see if these treatments can work. Make him strong.”
My aspirations of his life being extended grew dimly faint, but I still held out hope that the doctor in Omaha would be able to navigate the doc in Alabama through some new treatment options in a last-ditch effort to see my dads condition improve, “Give us one more good time with Him Lord, at least one more………….please.”
I opened my eyes, and the next day (Monday) had come, and I had to make a call to the cancer institute to get an emergency appointment. They were expecting us to pick up treatment with the new doctor in Omaha and didn’t have any appointments. I explained how my dad was too weak to make the trip, “can we get lab work done and have the two doctors consult with each other to see what options we have?” There weren’t any open appointments, but the nurse practitioner had a cancellation and an appointment became available. “Finally something is going right.” My wife came downstairs and grandpa, having arrived too late the night before to see my dad. He was able to look at her and Evie (my youngest). He smiled and told my wife that he loved her. It would be some of the last words he spoke.
It was off to the cancer institute in hopes that the doctor in Omaha could give us the recommendation to help my dad. We arrived, I lifted my dad from the car to the wheelchair…”Man, he’s so light…he shouldn’t be this fragile Lord”…he couldn’t even get his feet under him. “Perhaps there was something out there, some kind of treatment that his current doctor had not been aware of. The specialist in Omaha will be able to help.” We entered the nurse practitioner’s room. It was tiny. My mom, wife, sister-in-law, and dad's youngest sister all found our spot as the nurse moved some things around to make more space. She was a sweet southern lady who I had not met before, but I could tell she was trying to conceal her true feelings as she saw my dad’s condition when I wheeled him into the room. He hadn’t eaten much Saturday or Sunday so he looked frail.
Time was of the essence and before I knew what was happening I caught myself speaking as if trying to justify my thoughts to the nurse.
“We were hopeful that Dr. N could see if there’s anything the doctor in Omaha would recommend. We were
trying to hold out through the weekend to see what our options were.”
A long pause….time finally had stopped, but times timing was terrible. “Why is she not saying anything”
And then the words came...
She had done her research…
she had prepared for the visit…
She had contacted the Omaha doctor, but the doctor wasn’t able to make any recommendations without having an in-patient check.
The words that wrecked me could be held back no more…
“There is nothing left that the doctors can do Mr. Downing.”
Oh…….soul of mine. Where did you go? I felt like my spirit had been crushed and suffocated under a million tons of bricks. My dad, head suspended at the neck, dangling just above his chest, made no movement…
and I felt an unmovable lump form in my throat. “Hold it together Matt”. And then, I couldn’t. “Stop crying.” I wept. I tried to hold my eyes and prevent the tears from coming out, but it was a futile attempt. It was over and I knew it. “Nooooo…Lord….please…not yet. I need to fulfill my duty”
But no matter how hard I tried to convince myself and hold out hope, I knew it was time to make arrangements for hospice. That word which had haunted my heart for weeks was forcing its way into my vocabulary.
We didn't know it at the time, but his body had already begun shutting down, and his blood work that came back that day confirmed an unwelcome truth. I had to acknowledge internally that his fight was no longer possible.
It was extremely hard for me to process, especially being that my initial expectation was to bring him back to Omaha for better treatment.
But as so often is the case in life, things don’t go as we plan them. And I had to surrender the path I had mapped out for my dad's life to the Lord. It was painful. Excruciating. Numbing. But God was with us. And in the valley, Christ was real to us. The suffering He went through on our behalf took on a new meaning.
That night, we gathered around my dad's favorite spot on the couch. My brother's family, all our kids, my mom, and my Aunt. He had become, for the most part, unresponsive. His chest would rise heavily and rapidly, accompanied by forceful exhales. We told him we loved him. We worshipped Christ to the playing of my brother's guitar. We prayed for his soul to find peace, and told stories of him that brought us joy. That night, all the adults slept in the living room with him on the couches and an extra cot.
The next morning, his breathing continued, though somewhat more strained, and he was now on an hourly dose of morphine.
We knew time was limited, but we went about our daily activities around the house, stopping occasionally to whisper in his ear reminders to him of our love.
“Hopefully he hears us, Lord.”
At 2 pm Kristi noticed a significant change in his respiration. His pulse spiked high and then dropped immediately. I was outside and others were scattered about. She called us in, and my heart again soon found the black hole in my stomach. I sat down behind my dad as his chair reclined in my lap….helpless…which is a condition God so often wants us to realize. Others held his hand. Kids were snuggled up in laps and knowingly taking in the last bit of life my dad had to offer us. Stuart played the guitar and he and Kimberly’s voices mustered up the strength to sing of God’s goodness. We were in true communion with the Lord Jesus Christ. “Lord, you give and you take away, BLESSED be the name of the Lord.” It is an experience I will never forget.
“We’re all here with you dad. Your whole family. You are so loved. We love you. And we know you love us!” Two opposite spectrums of feelings clashed through the room. While my dad was in a painless state, our hearts were torn in two.
I found my hand on his chest, trying to enjoy as much life as he had left to give, hoping to somehow give him some of mine.
And then…we witnessed the last rise…and the last fall of his chest.
I was holding him when his heart beat its last.
As my sister-in-law has stated, it was the most beautiful awful experience.
“I wish I could have one more hug. I wish I could feel his arm drape over my shoulder to pull me in and rub my back…
One…
More…
Time.”
I miss those legendary hugs.
But God's ways are higher than our ways. And more than anything, the lesson I’ve learned is that Matt Downing cannot control anything,
“fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10
Isaiah 55:6-11 says:
"Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.”
He is sovereign over all events that transpire in this world. Nothing is out of His control. There are no surprises to the One who spoke the universe into existence. The moment we try and control the events in our life is ironically the very moment we also realize we’re no longer able to move the steering wheel. His ways are higher than our ways, we may never understand, but we can tangibly see His goodness to us in the works of His Son, Christ Jesus, who took on flesh and placed the sins of mankind on Himself for the glory of the Father and the good of man.
My dad’s time on earth is no longer. He lived a full and wonderful life, and for that I am thankful. I’m thankful that we had advanced warning of the limited time we had left with him. I’m so thankful that we had no unresolved issues and no regrets.
But all of this suffering makes my longing for heaven greater. As we become adults there is just so much “real life” that we get exposed to; so many raw instances that no teacher in high school or college professor could ever prepare us for. Friends and family members divorce. Parents abandon their children. Fathers and mothers are abusive. Children pass before their parents. Friends and relatives die. This is real life and we can’t control the time or place in which suffering will render us helpless and reveal our true weakness as human beings.
Scripture says: “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”
Proverbs 16:9
All of these things we suffer through here in this life point us to our need for Christ. Not just to bring us comfort here on earth. No, they point to the brokenness of this world and they are a correlation to our sinful natures which separate us from God. Suffering through these types of experiences is a gift, it shows us our helplessness and brokenness before a triune Holy God, and it demonstrates our need for Christ. As a Christian, I have a great hope that one day, in God's perfect timing, he will make the clock stop. He will bring forth His will as He has planned before the beginning of man, and he will wipe away every tear from every eye, death shall be no more, and he will reign supreme.
I yearn for this day.
If you’re still reading this, perhaps you’re thinking heavily on these matters. Feel free to PM me if you’d like to discuss more.
“And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." And he who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." Also, he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true."”
Revelation 21:3-5
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